


Holy Smokes, There's Demons In Chicago!

by snarkytrickstergod



Category: Fall Out Boy, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkytrickstergod/pseuds/snarkytrickstergod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Supernatural/Fall Out Boy crossover that came to my mind one day. Patrick is a demon, the Winchesters plus their angels investigate multiple murders in Chicago, and things get messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beggining

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this will turn out, it depends on the amount of people who like this. But I hope I will be able to write the whole work.

Patrick and Pete were fighting. That wasn’t a strange thing for itself, they occasionally fought over lyrics.  
But this time the subject of discussion wasn’t lyrics. It was the actual future of the band.

“Dammit Pete! You can’t just decide that without telling the others!”

“I already did. I want to move on, Patrick. I don’t want to be known just for Fall Out Boy, I want to do other things!”

“And you have to break up the band to do that?”

A pause. “Maybe.”

Patrick chuckled humorlessly. “I can’t believe it…” He paced around the room for a minute, before walking to Pete again.

“You can’t do this. Not to me. This band is everything I’ve got! I’m practically nothing without you, Joe and Andy! Hell, I’m only a singer because of you!”

“Exactly! You sing because I made you to!” Pete shouted, anger taking over him. Patrick stepped back, startled. “I made this band! I brought you to it! You’re nothing without me! If I haven’t found you, you’d be just a simple guy trying to make music for a living!”

Patrick glared at his friend, completely shocked. That outburst hurt him more than anything said previously while they were arguing.

He looked down, biting his lip to prevent the tears from falling.

Pete, on the other hand, lost his voice when he realized what he had said. He didn’t mean to say those things, especially not to Patrick. He stuttered, trying to find the best words to apologize, but it was hard when the knot on his throat only grew.

“Trick… Tricky, I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to say that, I swear to God…”

“Yes you did.” Patrick muttered, raising his gaze to look in Pete’s eyes. “You did mean it, or else you wouldn’t have said that so effortlessly.” He turned around, directing to the door. “Do whatever you want with the band, I’m out.”

Pete watched him go, eyes tearing up with the guilt he was feeling. When the door closed loudly, he fell on the couch, burying his head on his hands, crying desperately.

“Oh God, what have I done?” he choked out between sobs.

* * *

Patrick got out to the cold air of Chicago, pressing his coat closer to him. He walked without a direction; he just wanted to forget what had just happened.

But he couldn’t. His best friend had just said he was nothing. That he was useless without him. How can you forget something like that?

It was two in the morning, and the blonde knew he shouldn’t be wandering on the streets alone in the dark. But he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to disappear.

“Hey there buddy. You seem a little off.”

Patrick raised his head to watch the man in front of him. Tall, brown eyes, short black hair and beard, this man was a complete stranger to him. Yet, here he was, talking to him like they were friends for years.

He knew he shouldn’t answer, but he did it anyway. “No, I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather, that’s all.”

“Nah, you’re not okay. You need something to lift you up.” The stranger smirked. “What about I enter you and we get to have a little fun?”

The singer looked at him, unsure of what he had heard. “Excuse me?”

The other man eyed him, licking his lips. “Hum, yes, that body is exactly what I need right now.” He muttered, like he was talking to himself.

Patrick was getting a little scared now. _What the hell does he want to do to me?_ “Uh, look, I’m not-”

The stranger’s smile widened, and his eyes suddenly turned black, making Patrick gasp in shock.

“Wha-what the hell? Who- What are you?”

The stranger chuckled. “Well, you already answered it. Now, back to my little proposition.”

The stranger’s neck shot back, a cloud of pitch black smoke getting out of his mouth.

Patrick was paralyzed with the terror he felt. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t move. He could only watch as the cloud went up and then descended, entering through his open mouth.

He squirmed violently for a moment, and then froze in place, head low and eyes closed.  
A young man, that had watched the whole scene, hesitantly walked over to him.

“Hey, are you okay, man?”

Patrick slowly raised his head, and opened his eyes, revealing complete black orbs. He smirked mischievously.

“Me? I’m fine. Never better.” His voice was low and with a mockery tone to it.

His eyes glowed as his smirk grew wider.

“But you? You won’t be.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stirred, slowly waking up. He got closer to the warm body next to him, smiling when he wrapped a arm around his waist.  
Ever since he and Castiel work things out, Dean always woke up with his angel at his side.

He felt Castiel move, waking up as well, and looked down, meeting his bright blue eyes.

"Morning, angel."

Castiel yawned, and smiled sleepily. "Morning."

The hunter reached down and kissed him, at which Castiel responded tightening his grip on his waist.  
Dean's hands wandered around the angel's body, making him moan in pleasure.

Dean crawled on top of him, straddling his hips, and...

 

"Deano!" A voice called, knocking at the door.

Dean cursed under his breath, rolling back to his spot next to Castiel. "Gabriel, I just want one fucking morning without you making something to wake us up!"

Gabriel opened the door, rubbing his eyes. He was only wearing a pair of bright red boxers. The hunter cringed at the sight; he could see the hickeys and the biting marks on his neck and chest.

"This time it isn't my fault. Sammich told me to wake you up. We have a case."

Castiel yawned again. "That case can wait one more hour. Tell Sam to wait a little." Dean moaned in agrement.

"You think I didn't do that already? I wanted to wait an hour too, me and the moose left some... unfinished business." Gabriel smirked, making both hunter and angel groan.

"Dude, how many time do I have to tell you? Don't talk about your relationship with my brother! It's being hard enough to tolerate you. Seriously, if it wasn't for Sam I would have killed you a long time ago, for all you've done to me in that damned Mystery Spot!"

The archangel laughed, and looked at Dean. "Really, Deano, do ya really think you can kill me? Lucifer couldn't, and he was my brother! You haven't got a chance."

The freckled man sat down, and looked defiantly at Gabriel. "Don't underestimate me, dumbass. I can kill you, you can be sure of that."

The archangel's eyes flashed, and his smile faded. "Try to put a finger on me, and I'll smite you, ya listen?"

Castiel suddenly appeared in front of his brother, serious. "Put a finger on Dean, and  _I'll_ smite  _you."_

Both angels held their gaze on each other, before Gabriel started laughing.

"Come on, guys, I'm only joking! I won't do anything to any of you!" He turned to Dean, with his trickster smirk on. "I actually like you, Deano. If I wanted to kill you, I'd leave you dead on that Tuesday."

"You did, Gabe. And then I had to look for you for six months to convince you to bring him back."

The three men looked at the door, where Sam was standing, arms crossed.   
Gabriel opened his mouth to apologize, but the tall hunter smiled.

"Are you ladies done with the bickering? We've got things to do, let's go. And Gabe, put some clothes on, for God's sake!"

Gabriel walked to the door, smirking and wiggling his ass. "Like you don't enjoy seeing me like this." He said, walking to the room he and Sam shared. Sam blushed, but didn't say anything, instead going to the operations room.

Ten minutes later, both brothers and angels were on the room, and Sam started talking.

"So get this. During the past three months, there started occurring deaths on the city of Chicago. Like, really bad deaths. Insides taken out, throats slithered, those kinds of things. No relation between the victims, they're either male or female, so there's no pattern visible. It looks like, uh, its choosing people randomly."

Dean looked at his brother, brows furrowed. "And what does it have to do with us?"

"Well, I started searching for the witnesses report, and they all said the murderer killed the people with his bare hands. Some of the kills were impossible to commit without a weapon or some really great strength. It's weird."

The older hunter looked at Castiel, and then to Sam. "So, someone with superhuman strength is killing people in Chicago."

"He could have chosen a better place." Gabriel muttered. Feeling everyone's eyes on him, he raised his head. "What? I don't like Chicago!"

Sam looked at his angel for a second before turning to the pair in front of him. "We have a suspect on the murders. All the witnesses described the same person. Blond, about 5'3", blue eyes, thin. Who, coincidentally, it's the same description of a man from the same city who disappeared around the same time." 

The tall man searched for the file on the computer, and then turned it to Dean and Castiel. "Here it is. Patrick Stump, 30 years old. He's the singer of a famous rock band, Fall Out Boy. His best friend and bandmate, Pete Wentz, reported his missing two days after the first murder."

Dean looked at the man in the photo. There was no way it could have been him killing those people, he didn't look that strong.

"So, what you think? I think it's worth a shot."

Dean looked at Castiel, who nodded in agreement, and then at his brother.

"Sam, prepare your feds suit. We're going to Chicago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really suck at writing smuty things... 
> 
> This one was kinda shitty, but I needed to tell how they ended up knowing about Patrick. The next one will have some interaction between the brothers and Pete.


	3. Chapter 3

_2 days later, Chicago_

Dean gave the final touches to his FBI suit, while Castiel struggled with the tie of his own suit. Sam and Gabriel were sitting in one of the beds, looking at the hopeless angel, Gabriel even laughing.

“You’re such a good brother, you know Gabriel? You even help Cas with his clothing problem and everything!” Dean sassed, walking to the angel and straightening his tie.

“Hey, it’s not my fault Cassie doesn’t know how to tie a tie! And besides, he has angel mojo, he could just snap his fingers and arrange the tie!” Gabriel exclaimed, snapping his own fingers to demonstrate. Sam’s suit suddenly disappeared, leaving the hunter only in his boxers.

“Gabriel! What the- put the suit back!” Sam shouted, jumping to his feet.

Gabriel simply snapped his fingers again, and Sam was fully dressed again. Dean rolled his eyes; this angel was a major pain in the ass.

“Well, everything right here? You and Cas go to the supermarket where the last murder occurred” he said, pointing to the angel brothers, “and me and Sam will go to that missing guy’s friend, to see if he knows anything.”

Gabriel and Castiel both nodded, suddenly serious, and disappeared in a flutter of wings. Dean turned to his brother.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

It’s been a month since Pete and Patrick had that fight and the latter disappeared. Pete was a wreck by now, barely getting any sleep and practically not eating at all.

_And why would I eat anyway?_ He thought. _I don’t deserve it. It’s my fault Patrick is missing; it’s my fault if he’s hurt, or even if he’s…_

He didn’t dare to finish that thought. He still had hope that Patrick was alive and well, that he wasn’t caught by that crazy serial killer that murdered more than 50 people in only a month.

But he couldn’t live with the guilt. He hurt the most important person in the world for him. How the hell do you forgive yourself after that?

He spent his days laying on the couch, crying or blaming himself for everything that was happening in that moment.

He was planning a way of leaving this world without anyone noticing when he heard someone knocking at the door. He slowly got up, grunting. It was either Andy or Joe, he thought. They have been coming to his house practically once a day to be sure that he didn’t do anything stupid.

When he opened the door, however, he was greeted by two tall, suited men. He looked up ( _damn, they’re tall_ ), confused.

“Uh, can I help you?”

“Mr. Wentz? We are agents Tankian and Malakian, from the FBI. We’re here because you reported a missing.” The taller man said, while they showed their badges.

Pete immediately straightened, alarmed. “FBI? Why are- did you find Patrick? Is he alright? Is he-”

“Calm down, Mr. Wentz. We didn’t find him yet, but we’re working on it.” The blonde man said. “Can we enter?”

Pete’s face fell, while he motioned for them to enter. “Of course, come in.”

Sam noticed the change, and whispered to his brother. “Don’t pressure him too much, Dean. He’s not okay, I can feel it.” Dean nodded, looking at the bassist.

They sat on the couch, while Pete sat in front of them. Sam took out a notebook. “So, Mr. Wentz-”

“Just call me Pete. I hate it when they call me Mr.”

“Okay, Pete. When did you see your friend, Patrick, last?”

Pete bit his lip to prevent from crying again. “A month ago. We were here, on my house. We had a little fight, and he got out. And then…”

“A fight? Why, what happened?”

Pete’s eyes watered, while he remembered the events from that night. “Patrick came to my house, because I told him I was planning on breaking up the band. We started arguing with each other, until I…” he swallowed hard. “Until I said something I really shouldn’t have said. He got hurt, and I tried to apologize, but he just got out through the door. It was the last time I saw him.”

Dean looked at the man in front of him. He looked like he would break down any minute. “Mr. Wen- Pete, do you know anybody that could want to hurt Patrick?”

Pete looked at him, incredulous. “Hurt him? Do you know Trick? He’s the sweetest guy on Earth, he wouldn’t hurt a freaking fly! Believe me, he didn’t have any enemies, everyone loved him!”

“Except Fall Out Boy’s haters, right?” Sam softly asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t think anybody hated him that much. And besides, the majority of the haters have a grudge against me, not Tricky.”

Dean opened his mouth to talk, when a phone started ringing. Sam took out his phone and got up, excusing himself.

He walked to the hall, and picked up. “Yes, Gabe?”

“I’ve got something for you, Sammich. You still at Pete’s house?”

“Yeah, we’re talking with him. Why, what you’ve got?”

Gabriel walked to his brother, who was watching the surveying images. “We talked to the security chief and he let us see the surveying images from the night of the murder. I think you should see the video, and your friend too.”

“Okay, can you send it to me?”

“On it.” Gabriel pressed a button, and the video was sent. “There, you have it. Show it to the guy.”

“Thanks, babe.” Sam said, looking at the new video message on his phone.

Gabriel smirked. “You’ll pay this favor when we get home, Sasquatch.”

Sam blushed, and hung up. He walked back to the living room, where Dean and Pete were talking about the band. Apparently his brother got really interested on the sound of Pete’s band.

“I just received something that you should see, Pete.” Sam said, looking down to the confused bassist.

Pete got up, and walked to the agent. “What is it?”

Dean got up also, and the three watched the video Gabriel had sent them. It showed the night of the murder.

Around 3 a.m. someone walked into the supermarket, head down. He walked to the register, where the victim was, and suddenly he threw him against the wall. Pete gasped in shock.

What happened next made even the two hunters sick to the stomach, and that’s saying a lot.

After killing the man, the mysterious guy looked right into the camera, smirking, hands and shirt full of blood.

Pete screamed in horror, walking back to the couch and falling, legs week.

“No! It can’t be, it can’t! It’s impossible!”

Sam walked to the shocked bassist, and kneeled in front of him. “You know this man, don’t you?”

Pete shook his head, apparently not hearing them. “No. It can’t be, no…”

Dean shook him, trying to get him back to real life. Sam scolded him for that, but it worked, as Pete looked at them, tears falling freely down his face.

“It’s… it’s Patrick. But it can’t be! I know Tricky, we would never do something like this! That can’t be him, I fucking swear!” Pete sobbed, burying his head on his hands, completely desperate.

Dean looked at his brother, who was trying to calm the man down a little. He looked like he was going to have a panic attack.

 

After calling Andy from Pete’s contact list, the two brothers got out of the house, and drove back to the motel where the four were. Sam spent all the ride quiet, brows furrowed. Dean tried to ask him what’s wrong, but he didn’t answer.

When they got into the motel, Sam practically flew to the computer, while Dean and the two angels looked at him, confused. Dean shrugged; he too didn’t know what was going on with the younger hunter.

After half an hour of silence, besides Dean screaming at Gabriel for telling them to show that video to Pete ( _it was too sick even for us, Gabriel, did you think Pete was going to bear watching that thing?_ ), Sam let out a victory cry, looking at the computer. Dean immediately ran to his side, afraid he was being hurt or something.

“I knew it!” Sam shouted.

“You knew what? Dude, you’re behaving weird since we got out of Pete’s house!”

Sam turned to his brother. “I saw something on that video that intrigued me, so I spent the last half an hour trying to clean that part of the video, and I found something.” As the angels entered the room, he smiled victoriously. “I know what we’re dealing with.”

He got up, letting the three man see the computer screen. It showed a picture of the video, when the mys- Patrick looked directly at the camera. But this time, it had something different.

His eyes were pitch black.

Dean slowly straightened, looking at the others.

“A demon. We’re dealing with a demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bigass chapter, but I got an inspirational burst and I didn't know where to stop. Who would say that listening to Cobra Starship was so inspirational?
> 
> Next chapter will be all about Patrick. I don't write him and the demon for too long now.
> 
> (Have I said that demon!Patrick is a big turn on? God, he was so hot on the Youngblood Chronicles!)


	4. Chapter 4

The demon walked around the room, blood spilled on all the walls, and even on the ceiling. He was smirking; killing people was so much fun.

They were at an old warehouse in the suburbs of Chicago, a place that was abandoned a long time ago. Some say that the last thing that functioned there was a slaughterhouse.

He walked to a mirror standing in one of the walls, miraculously free of blood, and looked at it. What he saw wasn’t his refection; it was the real Patrick, imprisoned in a corner of his own mind.

He looked like his normal self, but if one would look more closely they’d notice that his eyes had no sparkle of life on them; the demon sucked all his hope, all his reasons to live, to make him weak and submissive.

Now he only wanted to die.

The demon looked at him, smiling. “Well, what did I tell you? We’re having a lot of fun, right?” He looked at the tattered image in front of him, and laughed. “Well, at least one of us is!”

“Why me? Why did you choose me to do this?” His tone of voice was monotonous, completely different from his usual cheerful voice.

The demon’s smile softened. “Well, my boy, you were the perfect choice! A good guy, incapable of hurting anyone, but with serious self-esteem issues, and that night you were fragile and hurt. It was a piece of cake.”

Patrick looked down, tired. He didn’t even have the strength to fight the demon occupying his body and mind anymore; he was too strong for him.

_God, I hope Pete doesn’t know about all of this…_

The demon heard Patrick’s thought, but kept quiet. “But you have to admit you had some fun. I mean, you finally got to get your revenge on those guys that bullied you at school.”

Patrick looked to his right, to the pile of bodies that was laying on the ground. They were almost all people who either mocked or beat him when he was in high school. He always thought that one day he’d get back at them, and make them taste their own venom. He never thought that one day it would become true.

“I never agreed on this.”

The demon laughed. “Patrick, you don’t agree on anything. I don’t let you choose anything.” He said, black eyes glistening. “You just sit back and watch the show.”

Patrick closed his eyes and concentrated on the only thing the demon wasn’t able of taking out of him: Pete.

Pete was the only thing that was keeping him from falling apart right now. The brown-eyed bassist always gave him strength to move forward, to keep him doing what he loved. He was pretty sure that he would have given up on music if it wasn’t him.  
In turn, Patrick helped him keeping the nightmares that tormented him away every day. Even after the fight Patrick cared about his friend.

He wondered how Pete was holding up without him. He hoped Joe and Andy were helping him; he needed it now more than never.

“You seem to think a lot about that guy.”

Patrick opened his eyes. “It’s the only good thing I have right now. You didn’t give me too many options.”

The demon took a step forward, smirking in a way that made Patrick shiver. “You know why you still have him in your head? Why I didn’t take it from you like everything else? Because that way it will hurt more when you see your own hands strangling him, taking the life out of him, and realize that you will be the last thing Pete will see before he dies.”

Patrick stepped back, eyes widened in complete horror. “No… You- you’re not thinking of…”

The same creepy laughed filled the wooden walls. “I’m a demon, baby. What were you expecting?”

Patrick, out of desperation, ran to the mirror where he could see the demon, to fight him. There was no way in Hell he was gonna let this thing kill Pete without a fight.

The demon rolled his eyes, “How predictable”, and effortlessly threw him against the wall of his ‘prison’.

Patrick went flying, landing so hard against the wall all his breath was sucked out of him. He fell on the ground, panting heavily.

“You’re weak. That’s why you’ll lose, and I’ll win.”

Patrick started crying. He was going to see his best friend, the only thing he loved more than music, being killed by himself, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t fight someone- some _thing_ that could literally suck the life out of him. It was useless.

That thing was right. He was weak.

The demon walked away from the mirror and walked out of the warehouse, taking Patrick’s phone from his pocket. He searched for Pete’s number on the phone, and dialed it.

He had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a new chapter on Friday, and here it is. I hope is as good as the others. I really like the idea of the demon talking to Patrick, though. The creepy scenario, the damaged Patrick being provocked by the demon...  
> This counts as angst, right?
> 
> If someone guesses the Supernatural scene I took inspiration from they'll get a cookie.


	5. Chapter 5

Pete stirred on the bed, hearing his phone ring. He was able to sleep some hours after Andy came and gave him some sleeping pills.

But he couldn’t forget that video. He couldn’t forget he saw Patrick, his Patrick, killing a guy with his bare hands.

He picked the phone up and looked at the screen. The name he saw made him nearly fall out of the bed while he frantically tried to sit up.

“Patrick?”

“Pete? Oh thank God you picked up! I need help!” He heard Patrick exclaim on the other side. He sounded desperate, terrified.

“Where are you, Trick? I’ll come pick you up!”

The demon smiled, continuing his cover. “I’m at a warehouse. I don’t know where it is, but it seems abandoned.”

Pete paused for a minute, trying to remember anything in the city with that description. “Oh, I remember! It’s at the suburbs! Hang on, I’m coming!”

He hung up, proceeding to find some clothes to dress. He didn’t think it would be a good thing to come pick Patrick up with only a sleeveless shirt and boxers.

After picking his keys, he flew to his car and drove to the suburbs. He couldn’t think about anything other than he was finally going to be with his best friend again.

However, when he got close to the suburbs, something clicked on his mind.

_I saw him killing a man. I may not believe it was him, but I saw it. And now he wants me to go to an abandoned warehouse._

He stopped the car, unsure of what to do. Should he go to that warehouse alone? He heard Patrick’s tone of voice, but he could be pretending.

He decided to call the agents that went to his house the night before. They would know what to do.

* * *

 

Sam was at his computer, trying to find a place where the demon would be hiding. In the meanwhile, Gabriel was trying to make his moose have some fun, preferably with him.

“Come on, Sammy! You’ve been on this stupid computer for hours! You need a break!” the archangel whined, trying to pull him off the chair. He knew he could just snap his fingers, but he also knew that the last time he did it, he didn’t have sex for weeks.

Sam easily brushed him off, his eyes not once leaving the computer. “Not now, Gabe, we have a case to solve, remember?”

Gabriel groaned in protest, trying to get him off the chair again. “That fucking demon can wait a little! What can’t wait is the fact that you need a little time off that thing!”

Sam sighed. He knew that the angel wouldn’t stop whining until he did what he wanted. Hell, it was surprising enough that he didn’t try to use his powers yet! He turned off the computer, and got up.

“You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes, you know?”

Gabriel smirked. “I know, your dimwit of a brother keeps telling me that.” He pulled the hunter down and kissed him. “But now it’s not time to talk about what I am. I have other things in mind.”

“Oh, you have?” Sam muttered, smiling. He picked the angel up effortlessly, and pushed him against the wall. Gabriel moaned.

“Getting kinky here, now are we?”

“Shut up.” The hunter growled, kissing him hungrily. The angel moaned, his hands wandering under his plaid shirt. Sam pulled his hips forward, making both moan in pleasure.

 

“OH MY GOD, STAB OUT MY EYES!” Dean screamed, covering his eyes. Gabriel rolled his eyes, muttering obscenities, and Sam jumped back, startled, letting go of the angel.

“Dean! What- what are you doing here?”

Dean opened his eyes slowly, checking if there wasn’t any danger. “I came here because I received a call from Pete, but seeing how you two are busy, I think I should wait some time.”

“Wait, Pete called you? What happened?”

“He called because the demon called him. He said where he was and asked Pete to come pick him up. The guy only thought it could be a trap when he was arriving.”

“Where is he now?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel appeared behind Dean. “He is in an old warehouse in the suburbs of Chicago.”

“Yeah, that.” Dean muttered, turning around. “Do you always have to do that?”

“Do what?” Castiel asked, tilting his head as usual.

Dean watched him, _God, he looks so cute_ , and stuttered. “That- appea- oh forget it.”

He walked out of the motel, to his car, where Sam and Gabriel already were, waiting. They all entered the Impala and drove to the suburbs.

* * *

 

Pete got out of the car, looking at the warehouse. It looked creepy. He made a good thing in calling the agents.

He pondered if he should enter before they came. If what the agent said, that Patrick was the serial killer, was true, then he sure as Hell shouldn’t enter. But, on the other side, he didn’t believe Patrick was capable of killing all those people, let alone the ones who are missing.

The pained scream he heard from the inside made up his mind. He ran to the entry, ready to stop whatever was hurting Patrick. Yes, because he knew it was Patrick who screamed.

“Trick!” He screamed, looking around. “Patrick!”

“Pete, help me!”

He looked to the direction where he heard the scream, and he saw a door. He didn’t think twice before running to it and opening the door.

He wished he didn’t do that.

What he saw first made him sick to the stomach. Bodies laying on the ground, deformed and bloody, limbs everywhere, some with their insides out.

Pete wanted to vomit, that scene looked like the nightmares that tormented him at night.

He looked around, to the bloodied walls, but he didn’t see anything else. He didn’t see Patrick anywhere.

“Tricky?”

He heard the door closing loudly behind him, and he jumped. Turning around, he saw a man, with bloodied clothes, hands and face. His usually strawberry blond hair had red stains caused by the same liquid, and his otherwise grayish blue eyes were pitch black.  
The demon smiled, walking forward.

“So you’re Pete Wentz. Nice to meet you, Patrick talks a lot about you. Or thinks, at least.”

Pete looked shocked at the figure in front of him. “Patrick?”

The demon chuckled. “No kid, Patrick is not here currently. He’s here,” he pointed to his head, “but he can’t answer anything right now. ‘Cause, you know, I’m in charge now.”

Pete swallowed hard. He didn’t know what was in front of him, nor why did he look like his friend. “What-what are you?”

“I’m a demon. You know, those things that live in Hell. But I crawled up to the earth, and, well, your friend seemed like a good body to occupy, so I used him.”

“That’s not possible, demons don’t exist.”

The demon laughed, and Pete shivered, because it sounded so much like Patrick’s laugh. It hurt him, really. “Oh, we do exist. People just choose not to believe it.”

He walked around the dark room, still talking. “You know, I chose your friend because he doesn’t seem like the other people around here. He’s actually a really good man, he was a bright soul. And that makes it much easier to control him.” He looked at the bassist. “Patrick has a thing for you, you know? I accessed his memories when I possessed him. You mean the world to him. And that fight you had… You really hurt him bad, Pete. He actually hated you for some time.”

Pete heard his speech, eyes tearing up. _Trick hates me? Oh God, no… No, please…_

“He’s struggling right now, you know? Trying to beat me, because he knows what I’m gonna do to you, and he doesn’t want that to happen. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

“What… what are you gonna do? Kill me?”

The demon’s smile softened a little. “Believe me, it’s gonna hurt Patrick more than you. I’ll actually make your death simple, nothing like the things I did to the others.” He suddenly appeared right in front of Pete, making him jump back. “Because that is what you want, right? You want to die.”

Pete looked to those black eyes, and saw his reflection. He looked like Hell, thinner than he already was, deep black circles under his eyes.

He realized that that thing was right. He wanted to die. He messed up real bad that night one month ago; he lost his best friend, the only thing that mattered to him at the moment.

But then he remembered everything Patrick had ever done to him, every time he told him he was worth living, that he was nothing without him. Looking at him now, he knew he couldn’t go without bringing the real Patrick to the surface.

“I don’t want to die. Not now.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Oh God, you two are unbelievable. Both of you are hanging on each other to keep fighting.”

His black eyes hardened as his smile faded. “Enough foreplay. You are gonna die, you want it or not.” He shot his arm forward, making Pete fly onto the wall.

The bassist held on to his neck, which felt like was being grabbed by an invisible hand, tightening his hold every second.

The demon walked to the wall, tilting his head, while he saw Pete gasping for air. “Cool thing, uh? Superpowers. I can kill you without having to put my hands on you.” He slowly closed his hand, causing Pete to gasp harder, grabbing his neck.

“T-Trick…” He gasped. “P-please…”

Suddenly, the demon lessened his hold, staggering back. He grabbed his head. Patrick was trying to regain control of his body, incited by Pete’s gasps.

Pete watched the scene, trying to regain his breath. The demon was still grabbing his neck, he could feel it.

One minute later, Patrick stopped stirring, and Pete looked at him, afraid.

“P-Patrick?”

The hold on his neck tightening again was the only answer he got. The demon walked back to him, furious.

“Your friend is getting stronger. But he’s not stronger than me. He’s going to watch you die one way or another.”

Pete started losing his conscience. The loss of oxygen was too much. He slowly closed his eyes, letting one word escape his lips.

“Sorry…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so sundays make me incredibly inspirational, uh? Another bigass chapter, this one was even longer, I think.
> 
> I think there's only two or three chapters left. Ugh, I don't want this to end!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to my best friend Joana, who helped me develop the idea for this chappie.  
> You rock!

Patrick fell on the ground, hurt and exhausted. He had tried once more to fight the demon, in a desperate attempt to save Pete. It didn’t work; even though he was getting stronger, the demon still overpowered him and left him on the ground.

He watched Pete gasping for breath, being suffocated by his own hands, and cried out.

“Pete, no!”

He slowly got up, shaking from head to toe. Pete was starting to lose consciousness, and the singer felt like he was dying with him. Maybe he was.

“Sorry…”

_No. No, I can’t let you die like this, not because of me._ Patrick turned to the demon, anger finally taking over him.

 

The demon suddenly let go of Pete, who fell on the ground, and stepped back. He started screaming, falling on his knees and grabbing his head. Patrick was fighting him again, but he was much stronger than before. And he was winning.

Pete watched the scene in front of him, coughing and breathing as much air as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure of what was happening, but he hoped it was the real Patrick who was taking control now.

The demon stopped screaming, but still held on to his head with the same force, eyes closed. He didn’t move, and that was making the bassist nervous.

“P-Patrick?” he coughed, half scared that he’d feel that hand on his neck again.

The man slowly raised his head, letting his arms fall down, and opened his eyes.

They were blue again.

Pete almost cried, and smiled. “Trick… You-you’re back.” He said, reaching a hand to him.

The singer’s reaction wasn’t what he was expecting.

“No! D-don’t touch me!” Patrick shouted, crawling backwards. His eyes were franticly looking at everywhere, at the corpses, the blood on his own body, at Pete.

“But-”

“Don’t get near me, I- I don’t want to hurt you again!” he stuttered, getting up. He seemed in shock, finally seeing what the demon had done with his body. “I’m… I’m so- so sorry…”

He ran out of the room, and Pete stood there for a minute, confused, before slowly getting up and running (or trying to) after him.

* * *

 

The Winchesters and their respective angels got out of the Impala, looking at the old building in front of them.

“Are you sure it was here that Pete said they were?” Sam asked, looking up.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He said ‘an old warehouse at the suburbs’, it can only be here. And besides, that’s his car right there.” Dean said, walking to the door, followed closely by Castiel.

“I don’t sense any black-eyed bitch in here.” Gabriel muttered, looking around.

They walked to the front door, and Castiel stopped, making Dean almost bump into him.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“I hear something inside.” Castiel said, getting close to the door.

“Like what?”

“Yeah, I can hear it too.” Gabriel walked to his brother’s side. “It sounds like someone his leaving the building, running, probably.”

Suddenly the door opened, and a man got out of the warehouse running, bumping into Castiel. He tripped for a second and kept running.

The brothers looked at him.

“Isn’t that the demon?”

“No. I mean, yes, it is. But that’s not it in control now. That man you saw running was Patrick.” Gabriel said, proceeding to run after him. The others followed closely.

* * *

 

Patrick heard people calling his name, but he kept running. He was sure that if he tried to get close to someone he’d hurt them. He still felt the demon inside him.

He ran for what seemed hours, but it was only minutes, for empty streets and alleys, until he reached a road. He tried to get to the other side, but in the middle of the road he found himself incapable of moving his legs.

“What the hell?”

He tried desperately to move, but his legs didn’t respond. He couldn’t understand why he was like this.

Then he heard a deep voice inside his head.

_I couldn’t kill Pete, but you’re coming with me._

Patrick looked to his side, and saw a truck coming in his direction, and he went pale.

_Oh God, oh dear lord, no…_

He tried to move as the truck was getting closer and closer…

* * *

 

Gabriel ran after the man. He could feel his desperation, his shock. It wasn’t a surprise; after what the demon had done while using his body, that reaction, of trying to run away, was predictable.

What was surprising was how much that man could run. _Jesus Christ, he’s fast for a little guy._

He saw the man stopping in the middle of the road, and he slowed up a little. The angel wondered why he stopped in that place, and a minute later he figured out why.

He couldn’t move.

He saw the truck coming in his direction, and then looked to Patrick, and saw that black aura around him again. _The demon is trying to kill them both._

He ran as fast as he could, and jumped. He caught Patrick mid-flight, just before he was hit by the truck, and they both fell on the other side of the road.

“Gabriel!” Sam shouted, running to them. They had seen the stunt, and the hunter got worried that his angel had gotten hurt in the fall.

“I’m fine!” Gabriel shouted back, and looked to the body under him. He saw black eyes and, out of impulse, grabbed his angel blade.

“You’re going down, black-eyed fucker.”

“Gabriel, no.” Dean said, grabbing the angel’s pulse, which was midway into craving the blade on the demon’s chest.

“What, why? There’s a demon here!”

Dean looked at the angel in the eyes. “But the man is there as well. He’s innocent; he doesn’t deserve to die just because he’s got a monster inside him.”

“Come on, kill me. I just want to disappear. I don’t deserve to live, not after what I did.” Patrick said. His eyes were switching between blue and black; he was still struggling. Gabriel looked at him sadly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Patrick doesn’t deserve to die just because of this.” He turned to the hunter behind him. “Sammy, you know what to do.”

Sam nodded and started chanting the exorcism.

* * *

 

Pete was walking as fast as he could; he still hadn’t the strength to run. He saw the agents plus two guys he had never seen running after Patrick and followed them.

He figured Patrick was feeling guilty for all the deaths that thing had committed while in his body. He couldn’t blame him; he’d fell the same way, or worse.

He rounded the corner and saw the four guys, one on top of the singer, with a strange knife in his hand. His first thought was that he was going to kill Patrick, and he walked faster. But then he saw the blonde agent grabbing the other pulse, and him letting go of the knife.

Pete looked at Patrick. His eyes looked like they were half black, half blue, and he heard him telling the others to kill him.   
That saddened Pete. Usually he was the one who wanted to die.

He heard the taller agent chanting something in a foreign language, and then Patrick squirming violently, being held to the ground by the other blonde guy.

“Patrick!” He shouted, running to the other side of the road.

He stopped when he saw a large black smoke cloud getting out of his friend, and looked at it, eyes wide. _What the fuck is that?_

He looked back at Patrick. The blonde had gotten off of him, and he was laying on the ground, unconscious.

“Patrick!”

He ran to his side, and kneeled down, shaking the singer.

“Patrick! Trick, fuck, come on, wake up! Trick!” he shouted, desperate. His eyes widened as he realized why he wasn’t waking up.

Patrick was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, I KNOW, I KILLED PATRICK! I'M SO SORRY!  
> I'll make it better on the last chapter, I swear!!! I'm not letting them have a sad ending!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this an half-assed apology for killing Tricky on the last chapter.

Pete looked up, eyes tearing up, to the four men standing next to them.

“Why? Why isn’t he waking up?”

Castiel kneeled in front of them, and put his hand on Patrick’s forehead. He had a serious expression.

“When the demon left his body, it took his soul with it. Without a soul, life his impossible.” He looked sadly at the bassist. “Your friend is deceased.”

Pete froze for a second, processing what he just heard. And then looked at the singer. “No. No, no, no, no. God, please, no.”

The Winchesters watched as Pete buried his head on his friend’s chest, crying. They knew the feeling of losing a loved one; they lost uncountable friends over the years, and lost their angels at least twice.

Gabriel was shifting from one foot to another. This didn’t seem right to him; soulmates were supposed to spend their lives together, not separated.  
He looked at Pete, who was muttering something to Patrick, and straightened up.

“No. This is not right. I have to do something.” He said, and disappeared in a flutter of wings.

“Gabriel!” Sam called, and rolled his eyes. Now God only knew what he was doing.

 

The archangel teleported to an empty alley. Or almost empty. He saw the demon again, entering another person.

This time he didn’t bother waiting. He pushed him against the wall, angel blade in hand. The demon looked at him, frightened.

“How-How did you find me again?”

“Archangel powers.” Gabriel said. Then he raised the blade. “You got something that doesn’t belong to you.”

The demon had the cold blood to smile. “Oh yeah, Patrick’s soul. I figured you’d notice the missing part.”

Gabriel gave him a cold smile. “Yeah, we noticed. And now I’m gonna take it back.” He raised the blade up to his neck, and the demon’s eyes widened in fear. He was smart enough to know you don’t fuck with an archangel and get away with it.

Gabriel raised his other hand to the demon’s chest, and _entered it._

An inhuman scream left his throat, while Gabriel squeezed inside, trying to find what he was looking for.

After two minutes of ‘torture’, the angel took something shiny out of the demon and saved it. The demon whimpered, legs weak.

“Did it hurt? I’m so sorry. I’m gonna make it better, promise.” Gabriel said, giving his better trickster smirk.

He stepped back, and the hand holding the angel blade shot forward, slitting his throat in a swift move.

The demon fell on the ground, dead. Gabriel looked at it for a moment.

“Goodbye, black-eyed bitch.”

 

Sam was still watching Pete kneeling next to Patrick. He wasn’t crying anymore, but he was still holding on to him. Dean and Castiel had walked back to the Impala, saying that they should leave the blonde mourn in peace.

He heard a flutter of wings behind him and turned around. Gabriel walked to him.

“Where were you?”

“Taking care of some loose ends.” He slowly walked to the two men. “The demon is dead.” He looked at Pete. “And I have something that belongs to Patrick.”

Pete shot his head to the side when he heard his friend’s name. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel kneeled in front of them, looking at Patrick. He smiled.

“I’m sorry for all of this, kiddo. You didn’t deserve to pass through this situation all on your own.”

He put his hand on the singer’s chest, while Pete watched, confused. “What are you doing?”

Gabriel didn’t seem to have heard him. “But now I’m gonna give you back what that bitch took from you.” He then looked at Pete. “You better close your eyes.”

His hand lighted up, and Pete fell backwards, startled. He closed his eyes like the angel told him to do, but the light was so bright it still hurt.

After a minute, the bassist opened his eyes, and the angel was gone. He looked back, realizing the ‘agent’ had disappeared as well. He was confused by this entire situation. _What the fuck is going on in here? Am I going crazy?_

A coughing sound coming from next to him brought him back to real life. He looked down and saw Patrick, coughing but, more importantly, alive.

“Lunchbox!”

The singer looked up, and tried to step away. “No, go away, I’m gonna-”

Pete helped him sit up, smiling from ear to ear. “You’re not gonna do anything. It’s over, Trick. It’s all over.”

Patrick looked at him, eyes tearing up. “It’s over?”

Watching his friend nod, he sighed, relieved, and rested his head on Pete’s chest, hugging him.

Pete wrapped his arms tightly around him, trembling. He still couldn’t believe his Patrick was alive again.

He felt Patrick shaking and holding him tighter, and looked down. Patrick was crying, finally letting everything come out.

“I’m so- so sorry… So sorry…” He sobbed.

Pete just held him, rubbing his back. He didn’t say anything; nothing we could say would make Patrick feel better in this moment.

“I’m sorry too, you know?” he whispered after a minute.

Patrick raised his head, confused. “What?”

Pete gently wiped the tears resting on his cheeks. “For that fight. I shouldn’t have said that thing. ‘Cause it’s not true. I’m the one who’s nothing without you. You saved my life, more than once. You’re the reason I haven’t given up on music yet. I… I… fuck.”

Pete looked down, blushing. After all that happened, after losing Patrick once, he still hadn’t the courage to say he loved him.

“Petey, look at me.”

He raised his head, and suddenly found himself the receiver of the sweetest kiss ever given.   
He closed his eyes, kissing back and bringing him close.

Patrick broke the kiss, smiling. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

“Yes, I’ve been told that.” Pete said, chuckling.

The singer laughed, and Pete couldn’t help but think it was the most beautiful sound he heard in months.

“You promise you won’t think of breaking up the band again?”

The bassist laughed, shaking his head. “Fall Out Boy is gonna keep going until I die.” He smiled. “And you? If I’m not mistaken, you got out of the band.”

“And if _I’m_ not mistaken, you didn’t accept it, so, I didn’t really get out of the band.” He leaned closer to Pete. “And I don’t ever plan to leave.”

 

Dean and Castiel were sitting in the Impala, waiting for their brothers. The hunter didn’t want to watch that man suffer, so he got out of there.

After what seemed an eternity, Sam and Gabriel appeared in the back seats of the car, startling Dean as usual.

“We can go, it’s all over.”

Dean started the car, brows furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘it’s all over’? The demon is still out there and Patrick died!”

“No and no.” Gabriel smirked. “That black-eyed fucker is dead and Patrick is alive, with his soul back on, don’t worry.”

Castiel looked at his brother through the rear-view mirror. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t want them two soulmates to end like that.” Gabriel said. Sensing everyone’s eyes on him, he shrugged. “What, I’m sentimental!”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but heard a song starting to play and closed it, turning the volume up.

_Some legends are told_  
Some turn to dust or to gold  
But you will remember me  
Remember me for centuries

“Really, Dean? You started listening to Fall Out Boy?” Sam asked.

“What? It’s good!”

Sam shook his head, chuckling. It was inevitable, he thought.

_Mummified my teenage dreams_  
No, it's nothing wrong with me  
The kids are all wrong  
The story's all off  
Heavy metal broke my heart

_Come on, come on and let me in  
Bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints_

“Oh, this reminds me of something.” Gabriel smirked, looking at the young hunter. “You have a favor to pay me, remember, moose?”

Sam looked at him, blushing. “Uh, do I have to pay it now? And stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yes you have.” He turned to the pair in front of them. “Sorry for the short trip, but me and Sammich have places to be.” With this, he snapped his fingers and they both disappeared.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Freaking angels…”

They spent the ride quiet, looking at the road and listening to the song.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Castiel looked at the hunter.

“I think we should do what my brother said they were doing.”

Dean almost hit the car in front of them. “What?”

“Well, we have been interrupted by my brother the last time, so we could… try again?”

Dean stopped the car. “Are you serious about this?”

He saw the angel nodding, and smirked.

“Well, let’s make sure no one interrupt us this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. The end.  
> Thank you for everyone who read this 'till the end, I love you all <3  
> I have to say, I'm gonna miss writing this every week.


End file.
